


A Year in London

by bedlinens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedlinens/pseuds/bedlinens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fleur Delacour just arrived in London for a new job at Gringotts. Please Read & Review</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: they are obviously not mine and I have no claim over them nor am I making money.  
> On a side note, a fic without feedback is basically a fic without readers, which is the saddest type of fics....  
> Finally, I will not write Fleur's speech the way JK Rowling did, because as a French person, I find it insulting. Imagine Fleur rolling "r" or whatever floats your boat, because she does have an accent but the fics wouldn't be readable if it was all in "Fleur speech à la Rowling"

Fleur Delacour took a deep breath in, standing in front of the wall that would lead her to Diagon Alley. She could see the keeper of the Leaky Cauldron watching her, ready to intervene if she needed help to tap the stones but she smiled at him, to let him know she was alright.

She just needed a second or maybe a minute, some time to herself, yet not too much, as she would be running late and people knew that the Goblins were not the type of bosses who let you get away with being late, or doing anything not the right way more accurately.  
It felt like at least ten years had gone by, since the maze, and the news of the Dark Lord’s return, but it had been a few months. 

Things were different then and they would keep on changing she thought, remembering the way “La Gazette du Sorcier”, France’s main wizard paper had been keeping mum on the return of the worst threat to all of them. 

It was not the right time to think about this, though she had many things to say. She breathed in once more, then tapped the stones, revealing Diagon Alley. She took her first step, and welcomed the new life that was about to become hers.

She walked with a steady pace, feeling familiar enough with the location, yet wondering if people could see on her face that she was not from there.

She had arrived two days before, from Paris to London, the muggle way: Charlotte, her best friend had taken her father’s car, as he was a muggle and drove a muggle car, and they had taken the ferry to cross over the Channel, before driving to London. Charlotte had invited Marie and Imogène, two of their closest friends to join them on the journey, and Fleur had been so thankful for this. It had made it seem less like she was moving away and more like she was just on a road trip with her best friends, at the end of summer, before they went their separate ways. When the three girls had gone back the night before, she had wept, though she knew it was just goodbye, and not adieu. The past months had been so …eventful to say the least, Fleur had found herself crying when the year before, she knew she would have smiled and put on a brave face.

It was a new world, and she needed to learn to live in it.

She put on a brave smile, now was not the time to break down even though her heart felt heavy, thinking about her friends, and her family. Before the Triwizard tournament, she had applied to Gringotts, as she had always wanted to work in security. She had applied to the London office in order to gain experience, language skills, and more. It had seemed like a good move. When she had gotten an answer, four weeks before, inviting her in for an interview, she had had one night to think things through, and ask herself if this was really what she wanted. She had decided that life had to go on, and that if she cried at night sometimes thinking about Cedric’s dead body, it shouldn’t make her give up on life. She knew what was lurking in the night, and she couldn’t let them win by stopping to live.

Charlotte had been at Hogwarts with her, and she had known her friend’s inner turmoil. She had seen some of the things Fleur had seen, and when Fleur had decided to go through the interview process, Charlotte had known what it meant, and had been there for her. Gabrielle was very supportive too, but being younger, and more innocent, Fleur didn’t dare burden her with the thoughts that kept her awake. Yet her sister knew she was not sleeping well.

Fleur had decided to go to Gringotts when they had let her know she had made it through their selection process, partly because she didn’t want to distress her sister and parents more than she already did. She remembered that one time she had woken up screaming, after she had dreamt that she had taken Cedric’s place. 

England was supposed to be her chance at learning to live this new life.

The streets were relatively empty, as it was the beginning of August and the Hogwarts students would start coming to make their shopping before school at a later date. Most of the people in the streets were people who were working in the shops around, or who had some shopping to do before going to work somewhere else or not. 

Finally, she arrived in front of Gringotts and took in the building. This would be part of her new life, of her new routine. She had been offered a part time job, though she had wished for a full time one, but it would still be a huge change of scenery. 

She was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that she was only 18 years old, as her palms started sweating at the thought of making a good first impression. She was scared, but it felt great: this was a fear she was supposed to have, this was a moment she was supposed to experience. This was normal, and she had missed normal. 

She realized that she was smiling, despite her fear, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like she was where she was supposed to be, and she was feeling what she was supposed to be feeling as an 18 years old woman. She hadn’t felt like a girl in a long time but she felt very much like a woman today, grown up and all. She was enjoying all those emotions, the trepidation and the stress of starting something new for which she had great hopes.

She checked her appearance, made sure her dress was professional, yet showcased her figure. She checked her hair, which was pulled back in a messy yet classy bun. She had braided two strands of hair on each side of her face to keep the rest of her mane in place. She felt warmth in her belly as she was certain her mother would have approved of her appearance. She felt tears begin to form but pushed them back, as she pictured in her head the way her parents would look at her, proud, happy and completely confident in their daughter and the choice she was making. She missed them so much, but she knew it was time to start life outside of Beauxbatons.

She pushed the main door and entered the bank. Goblins were everywhere, writing in books, speaking to customers, speaking between themselves. She located the one who had been there during her interview and introduced as her would be boss. Another deep breathe, then a smile on her face. She was ready and she walked up to him, ready to start working, to begin something new.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: they are obviously not mine and I have no claim over them nor am I making money.  
> On a side note, a fic without feedback is basically a fic without readers, which is the saddest type of fics....  
> Finally, I will not write Fleur's speech the way JK Rowling did, because as a French person, I find it insulting. Imagine Fleur rolling "r" or whatever floats your boat, because she does have an accent but the fics wouldn't be readable if it was all in "Fleur speech à la Rowling"

The Goblin’s name was Bogrod, and he went straight to business when Fleur went to him. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, certainly not a welcome party, the selection process had given her a taste of what working at Gringotts would be like, but still… 

She was brought up to the second floor, where a desk awaited her as well as a pile of paperwork, binding contracts she had to sign which stated in every terms imaginable and some she never would have thought of that she was not to talk about Gringotts business, and more forms covering more contractual obligations which all related to the safety of the bank.

There was something funny, though not in the hilarious sense of the word, about signing papers and contracts in order to ensure the security of the Bank. Her job was actually to ensure the bank’s security, with all means possible.

Fleur had imagined she would be finding counter-spell to allow the use or storage of some artefacts, making them harmless or harmless enough before they entered the bank’s vaults, but it turned out that her job would be a desk job as they called it. She would be revising, updating and coming up with new forms and new protocols to ensure the bank’s security, all under the eyes of the Goblins in charge of her department who trusted the wizards who worked for them only as far as they could throw them. Fleur felt desperation at that realization but told herself that every great wizard who was good at his job had to start at the bottom or very near the end of the food chain, so that when successful, they would be able to say that they made their way to the top.

She sighed when she admitted to herself that she wasn’t really buying what she was selling, but to keep a good face, she had to pretend. Goblins would not be moved by her using her sad face and she wouldn’t get what she wanted, so time to suck it up.

She signed the contracts, even those she wasn’t sure she understood, because it was a condition sine qua non of her working here, and it took her the better part of the morning. In fact, when she was done, it was time for her to leave her position: she would only be working half days, sometimes morning and sometimes afternoon, but she would not get a full day of work. It had pained her, but she supposed that having only half a day to think about the people she missed was as good as getting full days when she would work and full days when she would mop around. In fact, it was better otherwise she would probably have gone back to France every time she had two spare days in a row. She wanted to be strong but the part of her who was weak was a loud speaker and projected strong emotions.

She got up from her desk, trying to get back feelings in her neck and the top of her back, before going to find Bogrod. She knocked on his door and he barked for her to come in. It seemed that Goblins liked their wizards to work in open space but for themselves they fancied actual offices.

She came in and told him that she was done with the paperwork. She wondered if she had said things the proper way when he looked at her funny, and suddenly felt very uncertain about her proficiency in English, until he spoke:

“I suppose you didn’t understand most of what you just signed.”

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong and that she had understood everything, but she wasn’t sure he was making a jibe about her English skills.

“Most wizards sign the paperwork and only later truly understand what they bided themselves too,” he went on.

He didn’t say it but she could hear the words about a Goblin never signing something he wasn’t fully in control or in accordance with hanging in the room.

“I didn’t understand everything, it is true. I was hoping to make copies and read them again tonight to make sure I do understand what I signed up for. You said the paperwork had to be done before I left, and I didn’t want to be late on my first assignment, as I was sure that you wouldn’t make me sign anything that was contrary to the terms discussed during the selection process, or something that was contrary to Gringotts procedures.”

Completely honestly, there had been one point in that long convoluted answer when she hadn’t been sure what point she was making or where she was at in the structure of the sentence, but she made it through, and he looked at her weirdly again. She wondered if what she considered a weird look was just an average look to a Goblin, maybe a thoughtful look, or who knew, maybe a bemused one.

“There will be no copies. Nothing involving Gringotts business leaves Gringotts. However, if you want, for this one time, you can come back after lunch break and go back to your desk to complete your reading and your … understanding,” Bogrod said, as if looking for the proper way to be both kind and stern. 

Maybe he wasn’t even being kind. Maybe they just really insisted on everybody understanding everything they signed. When she had signed up for a vault upon arriving in London, the Goblin who had been in charge of her registration had explained everything in layman terms, sometimes to the point of being insulting as he had spelled out things way too simple to require an extra five minutes on their true meaning. Sometimes a word just meant one thing and you didn’t need to ponder and wonder about its meaning for centuries.  
Though she could only think right now of words who had more than one meaning, funny how the brain worked…

“Is that agreeable to you, miss Delacour?” Bogrod asked again, forcing to leave these thoughts behind.

She was about to answer when there was a knock on the door. It opened before Bogrod could have said anything and she saw that the Goblin wasn’t pleased with this possible infraction on his privacy.

She turned to look at the intruder, and she almost gasped.

It was him, the man from the Triwizard tournament, the one who had visited Harry Potter before the Third task. 

He was one of the few memories she kept of this year in her life that hadn’t been tainted by what happened once they had been out of the maze.

He had stood out in the room where they were greeting their families, and he had certainly caught her eye. It wasn’t the ponytail or the earring, though she supposed it did make him stand out from any crowd, but something else, an aura about him.

She may have only been a quarter Veela on paper but as Bonne-Maman Adelaide would say, her full blood Veela grandmother who had given birth to Fleur’s mother, a Veela’s power didn’t depend on the amount of blood of such species in one’s blood, it was about connecting with your inner Veela. When she had spotted that man at the Triwizard tournament, Fleur had felt even more in touch than ever with her inner Veela. Sadly, he hadn’t glanced her way, or if he had, he hadn’t been caught doing it. She wished he had, as she had wished back then. She had been terrified of the Third Task, after Gabrielle’s involvement in the Second one, and she had looked for something, anything, to make her feel like she was not walking toward her probable death. A glance from him would have done the trick, but if nothing else, knowing that he was out there had put balm on her fears for a second then.

He looked at her and for the first time their eyes met. However, with a Goblin in attendance, Fleur couldn’t afford to put on the Veela charm or sigh or do anything that would show this man that she was a woman and he should be worshipping at her altar, Veela blood or not. She only smiled briefly while blushing before lowering her head.

“Yes M. Weasley?” Bogrod asked impatiently, and Fleur was certain she had chosen the right way to act by not forgetting this was her workplace.

“I have to go for a couple of hours, I will catch up on any work I may leave unattended tonight and my performance will be as if I hadn’t taken a longer lunch break than the other days,” he told the Goblin, and she hid a smile when she finally really heard his voice. 

It suited him, suave, but determined. She could tell he was no man one would want to play games with.

She did want to play games with him, but none he would object to, if she trusted her instincts.

“Something wrong?” She asked, raising her head to make sure he would look at her face when answering.

“My brothers acting up, Miss. I know you hate family related business, Bogrod, so I won’t bother you with the details. I just need to talk to my parents to deal with this situation and be back to being effective when it’s done.”

“Be gone then and come back later. Be assured I will be checking on your workload today and what was done or not done that should have been dealt with.”

“Yes sir,” He answered, and with a short nod for Fleur, he got out.

“What about you, Miss Delacour, will you be back this afternoon to review the papers you signed?” Bogrod asked.

“Yes sir,” she answered quickly, mimicking M. Weasley.

“You’re dismissed then.”

And he turned back to his own work. He was not kidding when using the word “dismissed”, as he started acting as if she wasn’t there. For a second she thought she had turned invisible. Taking her cue, she nodded and left the office.

She stopped on the other side of the door, her hear beating a thousand beats a second, from too much excitement. She had not expected to meet him here, but she would be lying if she said it was not a good surprise.

A couple of Goblins walked past her and she realized how foolish she must have looked. She went back to her desk, where she fetched her purse, and made her way out of the bank’s offices. 

Her mood had changed drastically, and she had a smile thinking about the rollercoaster this job was proving to be, between stressful superiors, underwhelming work (for now she hoped) and intriguing colleagues.

She walked in the streets of Diagon Alley browsing for a place where she would be getting her lunch. Several men turned and stared at her as she did so, and she had a small satisfied smile on her lips. That morning when she had arrived, she had been perhaps too stressed out to notice if anybody was noticing her in that way, but it definitely made her feel less like a foreigner. 

Being noticed reminded her of home, and the stories Bonne-Maman would tell about her youth. She had been a player, though never taking things too far, and she had never been shy when it had come to telling her daughter or her granddaughters of her days as the Veela of the neighbourhood. She often would brag about the way she had been proposed to over a hundred times before her 18th birthday. Apolline hadn’t been the recipient of as many proposals, but she usually blamed it on times changing, and the fact that at Beauxbatons, she hadn’t been the only student of Veela heritage.

Ever since she was a little girl, Fleur had attracted stares, benevolent ones, then pointed looks of various kinds as she stopped being a girl and became a woman. It may have sounded like bragging if she had said it out loud, but she was used to people noticing her, and it was a bad day when she didn’t make a boy trip on his robes, even back at Beauxbatons. 

When she had turned 16, Papa had hired a muggle painter to make a painting of Fleur, the muggle way, as it was a quirk in her family, and whenever guests entered their house, they would stand transfixed in front of the portrait. It made Papa and Maman proud, and when Fleur had asked if perhaps she wasn’t putting too much stock on her beauty, Maman had tssked.

“Ma chérie, there are things you have people will never have. You have great looks, and I’m not even talking about our inheritance. You have brains and you have wits. You are more than just your looks. That portrait is lovely because it is something your father and I see every day when we come home and you’re away. I will not lie, we are proud to have had such a beautiful daughter but had you been a toad, we would have had your painting made anyway. You would have been the most precious toad to us no matter what.”

Gabrielle was counting the days till she turned 16 too and her portrait would join her sister’s on the entrance wall of the house.

Fleur finally chose a place to eat, and she pretended to not notice when boys and men alike tripped around her, though it did fuel her ego. She hadn’t felt in touch with her Veela side ever since… Ever since she had come back from that bloody maze, but today, she finally felt like her old self. 

She thought a lot about M. Weasley as she ate her meal. She wondered what his first name was, and if he would introduce himself to her. She wondered if she would have to ask him herself for his first name. She wasn’t scared, nor shy. 

She felt a shadow of doubt overcome her when she thought about the fact that he was older than she was. She remembered vaguely from Hogwarts something he had said about being there more than a couple of years ago. She hadn’t been able to eavesdrop on his conversation, too busy to take comfort in Maman’s and Gabrielle’s presence. 

Time would tell, she told herself.

She got back to Gringotts, showing her new shiny badge which allowed her access into the belly of the building, and she slowly made her way back to her desk. She was dreading reading all that paperwork again but she understood it was as good an exercise as any to help her strengthen her English skills. Furthermore, she wanted to win some respect from Bogrod by being able to tell him that she knew understood everything she had agreed to.

She took her seat, and started reading everything again, armed with a dictionary. Sometime later, she wouldn’t have been able to say when, she heard the door of the offices open and she saw M. Weasley come back into the office space. He looked at her and she smiled shyly at him. He smiled back, and she felt the proverbial butterflies in her stomach.

Oh wait, she thought, when she crossed his eyes again later and again, was there any clause in all the papers she had signed about fraternization between colleagues? She started turning the pages with a renewed attention.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Please read and review, especially the review part. I have no idea if people are reading or if I'm wasting everybody's time

 

 

“Such a cliché“, Fleur said against his lips.

“What can I say?” He responded and she could feel his smile against her mouth.

“Bogrod!” She exclaimed.

“Bogrod? What the…”

He turned around, and sure enough, their boss was there, having opened the closet where they had been hiding.

The Goblin didn’t say anything but his expression spoke volume. He turned around, muttering about wizards and their unprofessional behaviour.

They both blushed, then got themselves sorted out before exiting their hiding place. Nobody was around to witness their walk of shame, and even if they had, they certainly felt no shame.

What difference a few weeks made, Fleur thought, as she went back to her desk where Bogrod had dropped a pile of files as if to punish her for what he knew was going on. She didn’t mind. He could drop another ton of paperwork to fill if it meant she got another 15 minutes in that closet with Bill.

He winked at her from across the room and she smiled back. It hardly felt like weeks had gone by.

 

_A few weeks back_

 

When she had gotten back to the Leaky Cauldron that night, Fleur had felt exhausted, in a good way, like she had gotten things done, and it felt amazing. Ever since she had been done with her exams, and had gotten her degree, she hadn’t been able to focus on something so hard it made her forget about all the changes that had taken place in her life. The girl who had arrived to Hogwarts had died and stayed behind in Hogwarts, as a shell, and the woman who had walked out had had no idea who she was or how to live in a world she used to know.

She had gotten her mail from the innkeeper, Gabrielle having sent her a letter through the family owl Hugo. She had also ordered for some food to be delivered in her bedroom, before making her way upstairs. She had gone immediately to the mirror, wanting to see if she looked as different as she felt, and she smiled when she saw she did, for a moment at least. The blue rings under her eyes could still be seen, but for the first time in a long time, she looked tired in a healthy fashion, the tiredness you’d expect from an 18 year old woman starting a new job. The shadows of the Triwizard tournament competitor had faded, for the day at least.

She had read her sister’s letter over her dinner, thinking that she should look for a flat in London, so that she could do some cooking of her own. Then, she had gone to bed, delightfully exhausted, refreshed though feeling on her last leg.

The next day, she went back to Gringotts, and she may have spent a few extra minutes playing with make up before leaving. She thought about the red-haired man, and she smiled. A pedestrian walking across from her thought the way was directed at him, and she had to walk faster in order to get rid of him and his bad humour.

She had arrived, and had gone to see her boss, to get her daily assignment. It would be dull, having to deal with protocols and assessment of security breaches. She would find none, she already knew that. She entertained the thought of coming across something worth reporting, but the Goblins knew their business and nothing matched their self-preservation instinct. If money was their business, and their only one too, they would be nothing but thorough when making it safe.

Back at her desk, she was suddenly hit by a wave of sadness, wondering what Cedric would have been doing if he had been alive. During the Yule Ball, they had shared a couple of dance, and he had said something about his father wanting him to follow in his footsteps and working for the Minister of Magic. Fleur had felt like Cedric wasn’t sold on the idea, and she wondered if he would have gone against his father’s wishes. Then she remembered Cedric’s father, in shock when he had seen his son’s body, dead. 

She looked at the ceiling, fighting the tears she knew were there. This was not life, she thought bitterly, it couldn’t be. Life couldn’t be about having one good life, and one moment ruining it forever, not because someone had done you harm or because you had been targeted, but just because fate had decided to throw you that curveball. 

She lowered her head and use a tissue to dab at her eyes, thinking that she didn’t know how much more she could take of this. One moment she was fine, and the next, she had all those memories she had to live with… Putting them in Pensieve would not be an option, as they were too potent and too anchored in her memory to be removed using her wand. She had to learn to live with those, or hope that they would become less damageable. She felt instantly like the most insensitive person on Earth, for complaining when Cedric was dead, Viktor had been under the imperio spell and she had only been hurt, a few scratches and burns, nothing time hadn’t made fade away from her skin. But her soul remained scarred forever.

She heard someone stop next to her desk and she lifted her head. It was the red headed man, except he had his back to her, and he was pretending to be reading something from a paper sheet.

“Chin up,” she heard him whisper, “Bogrod is in a foul mood and making one of us cry would definitely make his day. That thing that plagues you is yours to deal with, but don’t let it give our dear boss a hold on you.”

And he was gone, walking straight ahead as she watched.

She forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths, then put the tissue back in her handbag. Nothing to be seen there. 

When Bogrod came at her, yelling, if such a thing could be done by a Goblin, more like rumbling in a deep voice that clearly meant trouble, she was ready and took the lecture without flinching, saying she would do her best for whatever she had done wrong not to happen again. Now to figure out what it was she had done wrong….

She looked on the side, and like the day before, met the man’s eyes from across the room. She nodded at him, and he smiled briefly as he nodded back. 

She went back to working, knowing Bogrod was waiting for one of them to look idle to make another comment. 

When it was time for lunch, and thus time for her to leave Gringotts, having no business keeping her there longer that day, she looked towards the red haired man, but he was gone already. She sighed but left the bank, going to hunt for something to eat.

The following day was the same, except that she didn’t break down, though sometimes she was still overwhelmed by memories. She would smell something and it would trigger a memory, and she would have to fight her instinctive response, which would have been to flee, no matter how little sense it would make, and to keep on doing what she was doing.

She wondered if she would portkey or floo back home for the week end. It was tempting. She had nobody here, and while the innkeeper was very nice, she was not home. Hell, she wasn’t even somewhere she could somewhat call her own. She thought of her sister, of her parents, of her friends. She thought about going to the beach with her family, pretending like she was not of legal age, or that she was nothing more than her parents’ daughter. It would be nice.

By Thursday noon, she was still not sure if she wanted to go back for the week end. Wouldn’t it be like admitting defeat? Then again, who was supposed to be judging her? Her parents would support her, no matter what she did. She had spoken to them through floo channel the day before and they had been their perfect self, or perfect in her eyes. They had told her how proud they were about her decision to work in London and at Hogwarts, while making her feel that she was still welcome any day any moment really back home if she wanted to. 

She grabbed her handbag, and left her desk for the day. She went out of Gringotts and went to one of the pub she had noticed the previous days. She ordered some Fish & Chips, and took them to go. She searched for a place to go when she spotted a fountain. As she got closer, she saw him. The red haired man. She realized that she still didn’t know his first name. She had not made a friend amongst her colleagues so she had nobody to tell her. She wondered what she should do: she really wanted to go to him and say hello, but she had been there almost a week already and they hadn’t interacted except for the time he had warned her of Bogrod’s temper. However, he was eating, and she didn’t want to intrude. Maybe he didn’t want to speak to her. Maybe he was just a kind soul and he had decided to help her that time and that was it.

“You know, you can sit with me if you want,” she heard, and she blushed as she saw that he had spotted her.

“I don’t want to intrude,” She said with a shy smile, feeling extremely self-conscious of her French accent.

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t want you to join me.”

She felt a thrill when he used the verb “want”, and hoped she wasn’t missing on an idiomatic expression, reading too much in words she was learning to use.

She sat down, in front of him, on the edge of the fountain. 

She opened her lunch bag and put it in front of her, as if she was sitting at a dining table. He laughed and said:

“I don’t believe fish and chips were meant to be eaten so solemnly.”

“You can take a French girl out of France, but you can’t take France out of the girl,” she said, struggling to come up with the end of that saying, wondering if she was messing it up.

“I’m Bill, by the way,” he said, and the sun caught the fang on his earring.

“Fleur,” she said, holding out her hand.

He wiped his on a napkin and shook it, making her feel all woman and Veela at once.

“I know, I remember you from the Tournament,” he said smiling.

She saw a shadow on his face, this brief cloud, the same way she did whenever she thought of the Tournament. 

“I remember you too, you came to visit Harry Potter,” she said, hoping to help them move past his sad reminder.

“I did. How are you liking London?” He asked.

“I haven’t seen much of it. I keep wanting to go out, but when I get back to the Leaky Cauldron, I feel exhausted and I just don’t do anything.”

“You’re staying at the Cauldron?” He asked, still smiling. “It must be expensive after a while, though less than living in London perhaps.”

If he kept on smiling, she would never eat a bite of her dish, she would be too busy smiling back at him.

“Yes. I need to go look for a flat, but I haven’t … I guess I don’t know where to begin…”

“People usually get together and get a flat share together,” he said.

“I know but Papa…”

She looked at his lunch, which had been obviously made at home and brought for the day, and she looked at her fish and chips she would probably only eat a bit of before tossing it. His clothes were nice but looked like they had seen better days though he probably took care of them. She had a feeling that while he earned a good living at Gringotts, Bill came from a family who had not been as rich as hers. She could see it in his clothes, in the way he behaved himself.

“Papa?” He said, urging her to go on.

“Papa… will be paying for the flat I chose, and he believes that I should live on my own, at least until I get to know someone enough to do this flat sharing thing.”

She knew few people could afford to live on their own in London, but her Papa, bless his heart, had told her that if she wanted, he would pay for her to have her own flat and no noisy flatmates who would make her feel unwelcome.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of having money,” he said, still smiling, and she felt herself blush, knowing he must have seen the way she was appraising him. 

“Not everybody has money, and it’s not nice to rub it in, is that the right way to say it?” She asked, hoping to distract him.

“Yes, we say that. And you’re right, not everybody has money but you shouldn’t feel ashamed to have some, since you know you’re privileged. I didn’t grow up with much money, as you seem to have guess, but it doesn’t matter to me who has some and who doesn’t. Money put aside, we’re all made the same way. Some are just prettier to look at than others…”

She giggled, and hoped he meant her.

“You know, your fish is dead, and I’m pretty sure your chips have come to terms with the fact that they’re going to be eaten. You should dig in."

She laughed, and took a bite. She offered him some which he took, thanking her.

And then they started talking. She told him about traveling to England, and he told her about Egypt. She told him about her sister, and he told her about his large family, making her laugh more. They exchanged stories about the week they had had. They didn’t mention the fact that he had seen her cry at her desk. 

He told her he was 25 and she wondered if he saw her as a kid. She hoped not. She surely didn’t see him as a teenager, and she wanted him to see the woman she was. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” He said.

“You can try, maybe I will answer.” She said coyly.

“I can tell, as everybody who walks by us, that you’re of Veela heritage. Am I wrong?”

She had been so focused on him, she had stopped noticing that she didn’t go unnoticed, but now that he mentioned it, she saw guys looking at her, as usual.

“I am. My mother’s mother, Bonne Maman, she is a Veela. I am a quarter Veela. Is it a problem?”

“No, of course not. I just wanted to …. Nevermind,” he said suddenly, blushing madly, and she smiled at him, wanting to know what he was thinking.

“You can tell me…”

“Maybe later.”

“Ok.”

They talked some more, until he suddenly realized that he was going to be late back to work.

“I won’t see you tomorrow, I’m sent somewhere in Dorset to deal with a situation,” he told her, “but if you want, I can come and help you look for a flat on Saturday? We could meet at the Leaky Cauldron around 2PM? Or you can do whatever you want and forget I asked that…” He said, and once again she wanted to kiss his blushing cheeks.

“I would like that very much, but are you sure it won’t be a bother?”

“It couldn’t be a bother. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Besides, I would hate for someone to try to take advantage of the fact that you’re a foreigner to try and fool you, though I suspect the Veela in you would fascinate anyone…”

“Such a gentleman,” she said.

“I will need you to tell my mother you actually said that, she would believe I was lying if I tried to tell her myself,” he said with a laugh.

“A gentleman can wear a fang as an earring, and have long hair, as long as his manners are perfect. Your mother should know she did a great job raising you,” Fleur said.

“Oh well,” he said. 

They both got up, and she wondered what was going on through his head.

He seemed to snap out of it and said:

“I really have to go… Saturday, 2PM, Leaky Cauldron?”

She nodded.

He smiled brightly at her and went back to the bank.

She wouldn’t be flooing home that week end, she thought with a grin.

 

They went flat hunting, and at first, when one of the flat owners thought they were a couple, Bill told them they were not, much to Fleur’s dismay, who hadn’t been able to think of anybody but him since their lunch. The second time someone made that same mistake, Fleur spoke up, and took Bill’s hand, smiling, and saying that they were indeed dating. He looked at her puzzled, but went with it.

When they got out of the flat, she let go of his hand, and said that she would rather people thought she would be living with a man, just in case someone became overwhelmed by the Veela in her and became dangerous. For the next visit, he put his arm around her shoulder, and kept her close, as the owner explained what he was looking for in a renter. 

Fleur wanted to dance when they didn’t part after getting out of that flat, Bill’s arm still around her, and hers around his waist. It felt good. It felt real. She never wanted it to end.

The sixth flat turned out to be the one she went for, and she liked that he liked her choice. She was told she could move in the next week end.

Bill offered her later to help, no matter how meagre her belongings she would have to move.

They spent the following week having lunch together, with her buying something from a shop, while he would always bring lunch, usually leftovers from the meal his mother had cooked the day before. He told her that he had decided to move back to London, after the Tournament and what had happened, because he wanted to be close to his family, in case anything would happen, and she squeezed his hand in understanding.

She told him about how Bonne Maman had met the only wizard who was immune to her magical abilities. In the end, he hadn’t been immune, but he had decided that he wouldn’t fall for something that was just magic.

“Bonne Maman was so mad, but she was also madly in love. People were falling over her all the time, and Bon Papa treated her like he couldn’t see that she was a Veela. She ended up courted him I think, if one can call it that. She decided she would marry him, and she made him see things her way. She was everywhere, she was the only woman he could see. Bon Papa told me that he couldn’t tell if he would be the flavour of the month or more, but when she first told him about how cute their children they would have would be, he had known she really wanted and loved him.”

“I can sympathize with your Bon Papa, Veelas are so beautiful, you want to believe they can only see you, but nothing can assure you that it is the case.” Bill had said blushing slightly.

“Well, this Veela sees only one man here, and his name is William,” Fleur said, her French accent coming back as it did every time she wanted to flirt or was too stressed.

“Lucky guy,” Bill said. “Do I know him?”

She slapped his arm and he kissed her, then and there.

She didn’t floo back home that week end either.

She did go back the following week end, and Charlotte and Gabrielle gushed over the stories she told them, about how Bill had taken her to see the muggle London. He had known nothing about it, and they had been two tourists in the crowd, discovering things together. 

She thought of him all week end long, and when she came back on Monday morning, he gave her a look, that told him that he had thought about her just as much.

She went to fetch some supplies in a closet, and as she was exiting, he carefully pushed her back in, with that naughty smile on his face. He had kissed her and she had laughed, running her hands through his long hair. She missed all of him, and she had missed this, these moments, these things she knew about him and that she could use to her advantage.

She had gotten out of the closet five minutes later, and her lips had been the colour of cherries, like she was wearing lipstick, which she wasn’t.

He helped her move in, and he went with her when she went shopping to furnish her new place. She pretended to bribe him with a French meal, but she knew that even without that offer, he would have helped her anyway. 

 

_Back to the present_

 

It has been six weeks since their first kiss, and she had cooked him dinner as often as she could. She knew he valued his time with his family, and she couldn’t have him all to herself all the time. She wondered when she would meet them, then thought that perhaps, they weren’t there yet. She had never been in a serious relationship before, and she wasn’t even sure if this was a serious relationship. All she knew was that she was in love with him. It was so cliché, but it was true. When she had seen her Maman, it had been the first thing her mother had commented on:

“You look like a woman in love”

She had looked at herself in the mirror, wondering what it meant, what gave away what she was feeling, and had found nothing. Maybe it wasn’t for her eyes to see.

She watched Bill across the room, and wondered if they were dating, casually or if they were somewhere further down the line. She just didn’t know.

She thought about that making out session they had had a couple of night ago, when he had caressed her breasts and she had kissed his chest. They hadn’t gone further, but it had already felt intense and she couldn’t wait for it to happen again. She thought about them having sex, making love perhaps, and she found herself longing for it. Whether it was sex or love, she was on board with that. In the meantime, she supposed she had no other choice but to go with the flow.

A paper flew to her desk, and she unwrapped it, laughing at his caricature of their boss. 

She was free, and carefree, for the first time in so long. She made a silent prayer, wanting it to last, and wanting him to keep on being in her life as long as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks became months, and soon it was the end of the year. Fleur had asked to be promoted to a full-time position but she had been told it was not possible. This meant that every afternoon, she would leave Bill at work, and though she always found something to do, she sort of hated the fact that they couldn’t work all day long together.

Things were going well, very well, and Fleur felt very much in love with the red haired man. She hadn’t said it, wanting him to say it first, while also dreading for him to say it. It was the Veela plague, as Bonne Maman would say. Sometimes you just didn’t know if the three words were meant or if it was the Veela charm talking. Fleur supposed the longer he went without saying it had to make it so that when he would say it, she would know that he meant it.

Furthermore, they hadn’t yet consumed their relationship, and she wondered what it meant.

She could see that he had more things than just her going on, though she was his only romantic entanglement. They never spoke about it, but she could see that he was preparing for what she could only guess to be battle. She wanted him to trust her, and to involve her in that fight, because she was no fool and she knew what he was preparing against, but she couldn’t force him. She was not stupid, she knew he had to be part of a group, and bringing her in would have to be a group’s decision. The problem was that Bill hadn’t introduced her to people who belonged to the group, or she hadn’t sensed at all that they were part of this side of Bill’s life.

It was frustrating, but she didn’t want to force things to happen, on any front. She knew things had to happen on their own otherwise they wouldn’t mean as much.

One day, she had come home to find Bill waiting for her on her doorstep, and he had had that look in her eyes, it had been so weird. He had the keys, and she had wondered why he hadn’t let himself in. When they had been inside, and had gotten rid of their coat, he had proceeded to place protection spells all over her place, on every issue, every way in or out, every window. He hadn’t said why, and she had wanted to ask, but something had held her back. He had looked some solemn, so focused on the task at hand, she had kept her mouth shut and she had let him do, even though she was a pretty good spell caster too. She knew that he knew it, yet he had found it necessary to redo her spells and do some more.

She had discussed it with her mother when Bill had left that night, and Maman had made her feel better.

“Men,” she had said, rolling her eyes. “It makes them feel better to think they’re protecting us, that they’re taking care of us, and sometimes it feels like they’re thinking we’re not capable of doing ourselves.”

“I chose to see it as a romantic gesture,’ Fleur had said in the floo chimney. “He knows I’m good, it must have something to do with something else, something he hasn’t told me yet, and I figured I would let him do what he needed to do.”

“If you know your man didn’t think you were not up to the task, but that he did it anyway, then you chose the wise course of action. Men would like to believe they’re this different and surprising species, but when in doubt, or feeling scared, they go back to some patterns, such as making sure the people they love are safe.”

Fleur had blushed, hoping her mother was right about Bill loving her, then they had said their goodbyes. 

***

They had gotten a routine going on, when he would come over for dinner quite often, but he would always leave before things could evolve toward a sensual territory. Oh, they did make out, and just a tad more, but they were not intimate. Some nights, in comparison, he would leave almost as soon as dinner was over, and she knew that he was going somewhere, and that it had to do with that side of her life he was carefully keeping away from her. She wondered if it pained him, to cut her off. It surely pained her, but she had chosen to believe that things were the way they were until they could be otherwise. 

One evening, while they were in the middle of a make out session that would have won them some medals if it had been a sport, she had tried to entice him to her bedroom. She hadn’t been too forward, she hadn’t put on the Veela charm, she had just offered him to move what they were doing to the bedroom.

He had pushed her away gently, and had said immediately:

“You have no idea how much I want to.”

“Try me.”

“But we can’t.”

“Why?” 

“There are things… Things you need to know, otherwise it would cheapen any steps we’d take further…”

She had been glad her English had been getting better and better, because Bill never changed his language registry to something less complicated, he always made her work for it, in a way, and she liked it. She was no babe who needed to be cooed at. She needed to learn.

“Bill, “she said, putting her hands on his arms, and smiling at him, “you don’t… I mean, I’m not a virgin if it worries you.”

He had looked heartbroken upon hearing her words, and she had felt defensive.

“I’m sure you’re not either!”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “I just… It’s stupid, and so macho, but I would have liked it if you had been one….”

“If it makes you feel better, there were only two boys, and I use the word “boy” on purpose. The first one was almost two years ago, and it went as badly as any first times usually go. The second one… It happened when I was back at Beauxbatons after the Triwizard tournament. I don’t have many memories of it,” she said, trying to find the words that would depict what she had done, and why she had done it, in a way that would make him understand.

He seemed to have understand right away that she was not about to tell him about her sexual prowess, that it was to be understood on a different level.

“Cedric was dead,” she said, amazed that she was not in tears, though she felt like her heart would explode. “Cedric was dead, and I was back in what was a normal setting, a safe place, and I tried to go back to being a girl. I slept with a guy from my year, and it was… It didn’t make me feel back to normal, it only made it more obvious that I would not go back to being Fleur from before. We never had a second go or anything, I was not interested. The reason I am saying this, is not to hurt you or flaunt my sex life, I just want you to know… I do not have the what’s the word, maidenhood? I have lost my virginity, but I didn’t find an extraordinary new world when it happened. I stand by the choices I made, I hope you will understand them.”

It was painful, to tell him some truths she only kept to herself, and hope he would understand. If he didn’t, it would mean he didn’t deserve her, but she wanted him to be worthy of her.

“I get it, or I think I do,” he said, rubbing her hand. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

She raised her face to him, and he kissed her. She felt warmth spread in her body, not arousal, but the warmth she supposed one felt, when feeling their beloved’s affection. She was so in love with him, it was not funny. He could crush her, but the more time she spent with him, the more she realized, she could crush him too. Such power. His heart was in good hands, whether he knew it or not.

***

When Christmas time came, he still hadn’t introduced her to her family, and that fact coupled with the fact that they still hadn’t made love made her feel extremely weary, and hurt too. She told him that she would go back to France for two weeks, and he didn’t say anything about his plans, or about wanting to join her. It hurt.

Christmas was a time you spent with those you love, right? Then why weren’t they finding a way to be together?

This question plagued her mind as she went back to visit her family.

Maman listened to her doubts and her fears, and didn’t tell her that it was going to be okay, because they both knew empty promises were no comfort. 

They decorated the tree in advance, as they always did, and they hadn’t told Gabrielle Fleur would be back for the holidays, so they were counting the days till they would go meet her younger sister at the train station.

Fleur had tried to write to Madame Maxime, but the owls had always come back without having delivered her letters. On the other hand, she had started writing to Viktor Krum, on a whim, and when he had replied back, she had been pleasantly surprised. He understood more that he let on, and she realized that he would pick up in her letters on things she hadn’t dare say. She realized she hadn’t paid him enough attention the year before, but they had been through the same things, and while they didn’t react to things the same way, their common experience paved the way for their friendship to become more than just being acquaintances almost right away. 

The day before she would go pick Gabrielle up from the station, as Fleur was dining with her parents, her father telling a delightful story about her mother as he always did (Papa so worshipped Maman, Fleur longed for that kind of love), when something unexpected happened. They heard the sound of an international floo call, and Bill’s head appeared in the chimney.

Maman took Papa by the hand and led him away without a word, while Fleur got on her knees next to the chimney. He looked so tired, and worried, and scared….

“Bill,” she said.

“I needed to know you were okay.” He said, as if he felt the need to apologize to her for appearing.

“Shush, love,” she told him, caressing his face the best she could, through the flames who had turned cold.

They stayed this way for a long time, taking comfort in one another, though she didn’t know what had prompted him, what had distressed him so much that he had needed to see her. They finally broke apart, and he told her that when they would meet in person again, he would let her in on some things going on. She couldn’t wait.

The next day, she went and welcomed her sister who was delighted by the surprise. She thought of Bill, of course, especially after her mother had dropped the story of Bill’s appearance at dinner, much to Gabrielle’s enchantment.

When Fleur left, a week later, she was ready, to hear it, to learn what was going on, to participate if she could. More than anything, she was ready to see Bill, and tell him in person that she loved him. The word had slipped out, when she had come to meet him at the chimney, and she wanted to say it, for real, knowing she meant it, and that he would if he said it back.

He was waiting for her when she portkeyed back to London, and he kissed her for the longest and most delicious time, until the attendant had to shoo them away. Hand in hand, they went back to her place. 

He told her about the Order of the Phoenix, and more importantly, he told her about his father’s close call with death. She tried to take it all in, knowing he needed her now. She could see it in his eyes, and she wanted to be there. 

She listened to his missions, where he went when he wasn’t with her. She discovered this side of his life she hadn’t known but had felt hint of, and many things had started making sense. He asked her to forgive him for having kept her in the dark, and she finally said those words which had been burning the tip of her tongue. He said “I love you” back and it was like nothing she had ever felt before.

They slept like the dead that night, having fallen asleep on her couch. When they woke up, they had had breakfast, and the air had seemed different. The fact that they hadn’t been intimate hadn’t seemed like such a big deal anymore, for all he had told her had showed her how much he trusted her.

And so their routine went on.

One night, he stayed over, and they made out, then made love, a memory she would always cherish.

In February, he asked her to come with him as he went back to visit some friends in Egypt, and she said yes. 

Maman hadn’t raised an eyebrow when Fleur had mentioned they would be sharing a bedroom, but Fleur had felt like a naughty young girl. She had remembered something Bonne Maman had once said “why do every generation believe they came up with sex? We did it before you did,” and Fleur supposed Maman’s lack of reaction was the proof of how right Bonne Maman had been.

Fleur was not allowed in the Order, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of it right now, not out of cowardice, but because she could only depict too clearly in her head the danger they were all in, and she knew Bill wasn’t ready to have one more loved on in danger. 

So they went to Egypt, and Bill started introducing her to some of his friends. He showed her the places he loved the most. He showed his world, and she fell even more deeply in love with him, for he was so generous when sharing, she felt like she barely deserved the trust he placed in her.

“But you do, Fleur,” he had told her when she had said that concern out loud. “I love you”.

“I love you too,” she answered, then let him lead her to another one of his favorite spots.

She didn’t know what would be coming next, she didn’t know if she should be thinking about the future or taking it each at a time. She enjoyed thoroughly sleeping in the same bed as he for a whole week, as when in London, when he was not sleeping with her, he was running an errand for the Order. So many nights she had laid awake, wondering if she would get warned if something happened to her man. It was torture, but she supposed you had to take the good with the bad.

That week in Egypt was perfection. 

“One day,” he told her, “I’m gonna marry you.”

“Funny,” she replied with wit, though feeling so moved, “I don’t recall saying yes.”

He had jumped on her and tickled her mercilessly. 

Overall, it had been the perfect trip. Coming back to London had felt so difficult, but the more they changed, became more intimate, became more fusional, the more she couldn’t wait for what would come next. She had her fears and he had his. She wanted to meet his family but knew that it would mean being introduced to more members of the Order of the Phoenix, and Bill still wasn’t ready. He would tell her about his siblings, she’d tell him about Gabrielle. He mentioned them going back to France soon, so that he could meet her family.

The future, in many ways, had never looked grimmer, with what was going at Hogwarts, and the Death Eaters on the loose. Only a blind man wouldn’t see the war coming, and she was not blind.

She was also deliriously happy. Being in love did that to you, and a French woman in love was unstoppable. She would look after her man, no matter what came next.


End file.
